


Watching the Tension Grow

by heidi



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, American Revolution, M/M, Multi, Other, Sharing a Room, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5463533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heidi/pseuds/heidi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron Burr exhibits some restraint, as he observes Alexander Hamilton, time and again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching the Tension Grow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feverbeats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/gifts).



**_1779  
Examine the precedent_ **

....Two days after Aaron had returned to Morristown, he posted a letter back north to reassure his aunt of his safe arrival. Familial tasks complete, he stopped in at Arnold’s Tavern on the Green. Familiar faces greeted him as he caught up on both news and gossip, then triumphed in two chess matches. Standing to look through the crowd for another worthy competitor, he noticed three people lounging in an alcove by the back window, almost hidden by a screen. No, it had never been unusual to see Hamilton with a girl by his side during off-hours, nor had it been unusual to see him tete-a-tete with John Laurens. It was unexpected, however, to see a girl on Laurens’ lap, her legs and skirt brushing against Hamilton’s legs. They hadn’t noticed him, or anyone else in the room; they probably thought they could not be seen, and were it not for their reflections in the window, they would be correct.  
  
This should be more interesting than chess, he thought, and leaned against a wall where he thought it was unlikely they would catch him observing. This wasn’t something he wanted to interrupt. He watched Hamilton pass a tankard to Laurens and tip it while the other man drank fully. The girl took hold of the tankard and sipped, then leaned over and rested it on the floor, while Laurens moved a hand up her back. Aaron watched as Hamilton stroked her hair, as if he was nudging her towards Laurens, and he could only assume that they were kissing. Hamilton’s arm drifted along her back as well, and it seemed to Aaron that Laurens’ and Hamilton’s fingers twined together along her bodice. The sound in the room faded away, so intent was Aaron’s scrutiny of the trio in the alcove. She turned her attention from Laurens to Hamilton, who closed his eyes and rested his other hand on Laurens’ hair. She moved her mouth from one man to the other; Aaron couldn’t tell in the candle-light whether her arm or Laurens’ was touching Hamilton’s collar.  
  
How long Aaron would have stood there watching, he couldn’t know. A terribly ill-timed interruption from a messenger at the door rattled his attention, shouting for Hamilton to report to the General's offices; he left in a flurry with Laurens barely a minute behind. Aaron remained, disappointed that there would be no more of the performance behind the screen. His face and neck felt aflame as he scoured the room for another diversion. His attentions paused on the wench they’d left behind, gathering the tankards and fixing the screen. Perhaps she would be willing to satisfy Aaron’s curiosity about her earlier companions, and he would willingly wait for another opportunity to observe Alexander Hamilton, up close. 

 

**__**

**_1784  
To discuss measures without reference to men was impracticable. _ **

It was a full day’s travel to Trenton but negotiating a settlement in this land dispute brought a comfortable fee, enough that young lawyers like Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr were both willing to make the trip. It was only practical, Alex thought, to travel to the capital the night before the meeting, and enjoy the hospitality of the Bright Star tavern, and see how much of the language they could hash out without interference from either client.  
  
“We agree, the settlement is desired by both parties.” Burr began the negotiation with the same language he’d used in his last letter.  
  
“Money has changed hands, but your client’s promises to mine remain unmet,” Alex interrupted. “I expect that he wishes to appease his wife and her family, with the rumors we have both heard about her nephew’s intentions towards Captain Crabtree’s daughter.”  
  
“He hasn’t merely set his eyes on the young lady. Her mother insists a wedding take place before the month is out.”  
  
They both turned their attention to copies of the contracts and surveyor reports for nearly two hours as the commotion in the tavern ebbed and flowed through other guests’ arrivals. They ate supper while writing their own drafts, occasionally annotating and revising each other’s papers. Three, or possibly four times, Alex had to move his arm, then his chair, to put a few inches between his limbs and Burr’s. Was the man trying to divert his attention to get a few of his preferred points into the agreement or was he oblivious to his encroachment?  
  
The lamps were all lit when the tavern-keeper pulled a chair to their table, apologized for his mother-in-law’s unexpected, early arrival and inquired whether they would be willing to share one room - with two beds, of course, the man noted - for the duration.  
  
It was exasperating, but practical, to agree. Even with his father-in-law’s support, a new law practice was expensive to establish, especially with a growing boy at home, and it was always a good measure to be in a landlord’s good books. Philip had risen with the sun, and Alex had been in the saddle since shortly after that. He felt in need of a break from conversation with Burr; he felt discomforted by other man’s steady gaze.  
  
When Alex retired not long after they finalized one last point in their notes, Burr said he’d enjoy the tavern hospitality and wine for a while longer.  
  
It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes before Burr came upstairs - but he wasn’t alone. He brought with him two young ladies, clad only in nightgowns and blankets. Their hair was down.  
  
They stood by the door as Burr laughingly claimed that the landlord had asked if they could also share the room. The man's mother-in-law’s snores kept the poor young ladies awake, since they, too, were all sharing one room. “We must be chivalrous in the face of such helplessness,” Burr said.  
  
“We understand you to be gentlemen,” one of the girls said - but was that a wink? “Although....”  
  
“I can share your bed, Alex,” Burr cut in, “and I’ll give mine over to Misses Patience and Martha, unless you prefer to share with one of these kind young ladies.” There was a glint in Burr’s eye that wasn’t caused by the candle he was holding, almost as if he would have been pleased with either choice he had set before Alex. Burr was too manipulative to be wholly innocent in this situation, but Alex shook off the glancing thought that Burr had arranged the entire evening to reach this point. “We can slumber as friends, much as I have heard John Adams and Doctor Franklin did while traveling for the revolution!”  
  
Without thinking, Alex lifted the blanket for Burr to join him, but one of the ladies - Alex wasn’t sure which - and didn't much care - stepped forward instead, leaving her blanket with her friend. She moved her hand to the button at her neck. “A considerate gentleman, I hope,” she said breezily, and Alex revised his impression of the situation. Yes, Burr really could be that manipulative; Alex would not be that gullible.  
  
“No, I’m not interested in that sort of consideration tonight, and I think it’s best if I sleep elsewhere,” Alex said as he held up his arm against hers and threw his legs out of the bed, into his shoes. “Burr, I’ll take the blankets, as it appears you’ll be warm enough with your companions. Let me know if they leave early.”  
  
Burr looked surprised, almost angry, when Alex gathered his things and stepped into the hallway. “Morality and virtue are not necessary qualifications,” he said, as if he was trying to convince Alex to stay, not chase him from the room. In the awkwardness, Alex tried not to meet his eye. He said, “I have further work to do,” as he left.  
  
Why should he be upset, Alex thought - if evening companionship was what Burr wanted, he could have it, and it wouldn’t be the most inappropriate thing he’d done. As a bachelor, even only under the law and not in his heart, Burr could transgress in manners that Alex himself would not indulge in. The evening was mild enough that the bed Alex made on the floor was far better than many others he’d slept in on past nights, but the sounds from the room Burr had commandeered with the ladies distracted him from falling asleep more than once. How was he going to get his things in the morning before breakfast, he wondered. He pulled a blanket over his head and tried to sleep. 

 

  
**_The 1790s  
How often the hypocrite goes from state to stage of public fame under false array._**

“It’s strictly for my notes, Mrs. Reynolds. Given the circumstances, as _une jeune dame divorcee_ , and your personal history, we must be as thorough as possible. I must ask you to describe in full detail each of your assignations with Secretary Hamilton. You may begin with your first meeting - tell me of his clothing, his manner, and whether he removed his breeches, shoes or collar first. 

“Was your husband present during any of your meetings with Secretary Hamilton? Did he join with you and Hamilton in your congress?

“Can you describe Hamilton’s manner? Was he considerate?

“Accomplished?

“Greedy?

“Amusing? 

“Tell me of his kisses, and the manner of his embrace. 

“And of his manhood. What details of his _corps_ can you describe if proof is needed? 

“How long did he spend with you, on you, by your side? 

"Did he ever talk to you about his work? His family? _(Did he ever speak of me?)_ Did he speak during your congress and if so, was it in the manner of request or instruction? What did he want? 

“Your last meeting with him, did you know it would be the last time you met? 

“Did he? 

“Do you want to see him again?”

 

 ** _The 1830s_**  
**_Truth is an ingredient in the eternal order of things, in judging of the quality of acts._**  
  
An anecdote by Devereux of Salem:  
A number of years after Alexander Hamilton's death, a Salem gentleman visited with Aaron Burr in Boston. They visited the Athenaeum, and in the sculpture gallery came upon a bust of Hamilton. Devereux tried to divert Burr from the bust, assuming that it would be disagreeable for Burr to see the face of the man he'd killed - but it was not. Burr's fascination with Hamilton had lingered and he stopped at the face of his friend, his obsession, his enemy, and drew the attention of everyone in the Athenaeum by exclaiming loudly, "Ah! Here is Hamilton!" He gazed on the lines of the other man's face, pressed his hand against the facade and murmured, "There was the poetry."

**Author's Note:**

> The section divisions were all spoken by Hamilton in various courtroom arguments between 1790 and 1803. Quotes from and references to lines from Miranda's _Hamilton_ are embedded into the text, the title, and the summary. The final scene is a retelling of a narrative included in many sources, including a biography of Richard Henry Dana by Charles Francis Adams, published in 1891.


End file.
